The Real World : A Daryl Dixon Fan Fiction
by ItsNotUItsE
Summary: Daryl Dixon is just a redneck with a bad temper. Arizona is just a nervous wreck. They are both lost in the real world. (set in the prison camp)
1. Chapter 1 : Just Arizona

_**Chapter One: Just Arizona**_

I hated myself for getting myself into this situation. Considering my consistent covertness, I let my confidence overpower my ingenuity - leading to my downfall.

I pulled myself up to my feet, my left hand instinctively clutching my right shoulder. The dislocation made the bones feel like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against one another - but I pushed on, in the hope of some form of solace from this endless nightmare. I knew I needed to fix my shoulder; and relocate the bones. But, I couldn't. Not yet.

I scanned the room I was in, examining the unorthodox structure and mostly unreliable resources contained in it. It was a sturdy cabin, evidently abandoned and undiscovered since the apocalypse or maybe even before. The only light shining into the room were rays peering in between the gaps of the logs forming the cabin from floor to ceiling; but was enough to assist me in analyzing the area. A rusty closet was the first possible hiding place that caught my eye, sitting obviously beside a rich mahogany-headed bed. However, it didn't take me long to realize my fairly tall stature and the unsupportive height and width of the closet. The last place I would choose to keep myself hidden seemed the place I was forced to do exactly that. As the sound of footsteps nearing became closer and closer, my body almost unwillingly dropped to the floor and scraped itself under the small space under the flea-ridden bed. It was times like this that I appreciated my slim physique, which pre-apocalypse I disliked due to my lack of boobs and bum. But given this situation, I'm sure the girls in Vogue, Prada and Victoria's Secret - of whom so many naive adolescent girls had looked up to - would consider themselves dead.

The two katanas strapped to my back pressed me against the wooden floorboards, tightening the knot in my stomach. My tight black cropped t-shirt clinged to my skin, using my sweat as glue - and the fingerless gloves on my hand kept the clamminess of my palms contained.

I held my mouth with my free hand as the door slowly opened, creaking agonizingly. I watched as two ragged combat boots made their way into the room calmly and furtively - taking fine and cautious steps through the cabin while the body attached to them sweeped through the cupboards, snatching anything it could find. The stranger haltedly took notice of the rusted closet and the imaginable plausibility of a survivor or eater being contained in it. The boots walked dangerously close beside the bed, forcing my hand down to my camo pants pocket. I stealthily pulled my hand from my mouth - assuming I was able to control my breathing by this point - and pulled my widows knife close to my head, clenching it tight in my grasp as if my life depended on it. Admittedly, when the apocalypse dawns upon the human race, exaggerations such as 'if my life depended on it' is used many a day.

I had a plan in my head of how to escape the stranger. But, a risk was present - as it was in pretty much every situation nowadays. I knew this person wouldn't be stupid enough to leave the cabin without checking under the mahogany-headed bed; and I hated myself for choosing such an obvious place to hide. I didn't want anyone to die. But, it was survival of the fittest. The weakest would fall.

As the closet door swung open and the stranger pulled himself back, my opportunity arose. I reached out from under the bed and sunk my widows knife into the strangers calf. The strangers roar of pain didn't pull my guilt strings as much as I assumed they would, speaking to my personality quite a bit. After a good few seconds, I pulled the knife buried in half his flesh out - hastily pulling myself out from under the bed before I could see the blood flood from his wound. I sent myself through the door from which I entered and for a split second, a complete mind blank threw me off guard. Indubitably, a split second is the difference between life and death even before the dead started walking. We only began noticing when the possibility of having our flesh torn from our bodies arose.

I scurried limply for the wooden door at the front of the cabin, lunging myself through it. My clumsiness combined with my adrenalin rush sent me to the ground again - and I was left vulnerable on the porch of that cabin. An unfamiliar sound reached my ears - not a gun cock or a hiss of an approaching knife ready to taste my flesh. I lifted my head to the direction of the sound, a tall and broad man with a ginger beard meeting my eyes with his crossbow pointed perfectly at my temple. His grey-green eyes pierced through mine behind his slant eyelids, telling me they'd be the last I'd ever see. His chapped lips began to speak.

"Is 'e dead?" they asked in a dirty-country voice.

"I-I" I didn't know what to say "What does it matter? You're going to kill me, anyways"

The adrenalin rush was still fading from my body, and my dislocated shoulder was becoming more apparent to me once again.

"I ain't gon' hesitate ta' shoot ya' right here and now, darlin'"

"Daryl!" another mans voice interrupted him, followed by strong footsteps charging through the cabin. I kept my eyes locked on the man with the crossbow, uninterested in the man I assumed I had shanked. The man with the crossbow seemed to scan the man behind me - and at the sight of his wound - he tightened his grasp on the crossbow and intensified the focus on my temple.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have. Either of you. I just wanna walk" I said quitely. So quitely, part of me assumed neither of them heard me. I hate appearing weak or vulnerable, even before all of this.

The man with the crossbow unnoticeably faded his stare, abandoning his look into my soul. Behind his oily brown fringe, his eyes held so much in their gaze. But, I didn't look away. Even if I looked away for a split second, the weakness and intimidation would show. I couldn't afford to make myself seem any more at a loss than he already percieved.

He lowered his crossbow without releasing his grasp on the trigger - in case I jumped them I assumed. Without a word, he gestured me to stand up. The man behind me walked to his side, revealing a dirty-brunette man, appearing more orthodox than the man with the crossbow. He had a bum beard and electric-blue eyes, and was dressed in a dirty blue shirt and black straight-cut jeans. He scanned me up and down with his skylit eyes as the man with the crossbow seemed to stare at him for approval. I assumed the man I stabbed was the one wearing the pants.

"We have a camp" The leader man spoke. The man with the crossbow seemed to be a tad put-back as the statement came from the leader mans lips "It's not far from here"

"I just stabbed you and you're offering me a place to crash?" I laughed at his naivety "That's mighty generous"

"You're lucky you only sunk half your knife" he paused "And I know either one of us would do the same" he said, motioning at him and the man with the crossbow "Difference is, we have someone to watch our backs"

"Yeah, he did a pretty good job" I mocked. The man with the crossbow snarled at my comment whilst the leader man shrugged it off, suggesting he was the more patient one.

"Are you interested?"

"You accept outsiders?" I asked, trying to not sound too desperate. The leader man nodded, seeming unsure of his decision to invite me "Okay. I'm in"

"Not so fast, darlin'" the man with the crossbow said. I made a face at him for calling me darling, earning a sly smile.

"I need to ask you three questions" the leader man stated. I wanted to roll my eyes. I couldn't blame them for being cautious on who to let into their camp. But, I never liked tests.

"How many walkers have you killed?" he asked.

"Walkers" I laughed "Izzat what you call them?" I thought about the question "I've been on the road since this whole thing started. D'ya really think I'd know the answer to that question?"

The man with the crossbow chuckled at my answer.

"How many people have you killed?" The leader man asked.

I stared at the ground and tried to restrict myself on counting with my fingers, remembering every event and how many people were murdered in the process.

"Seven" I said quickly, looking the leader man dead in the eye.

"Why?"

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. I didn't feel comfortable talking about this with someone I just met. I might've been able to handle this apocalypse by myself. But, I wasn't stupid. I knew I needed people to watch my back. Even if these people were as invasive as this guy.

"Four men were raiding my supplies. I had to get rid of them. One man tried to steal my motorcycle. And a woman held a glock to my head"

"What about the seventh person?"

I scraped back my oily ebony hair with my hand and sighed at the question.

"He was my fiance. He was about to turn and he-" I stopped myself and swallowed my words "He- uh. He asked me to-" I pulled my hands across my face, hiding my shame so to speak.

"I'm sorry" the leader man apologized. I didn't take it seriously. Seeing as he had a camp, he probably ran out of sympathy a long time ago. Yet, I still nodded in thanks.

"We can take you in" I felt a 'but' coming "But, we need to take your weapons" and there it was "Just until we know it's safe to have you around our people" the leader man spoke as convincingly as he could.

"You're not taking my weapons" I said, holding onto the handle of my left katana "Once I see this camp you can take em'. For now, I'll hold onto them"

The man with the crossbow eyed the leader man with an evident look, suggesting it was a bad idea.

"Our vehicles aren't far from here" he said, turning around and beginning to walk. I took that as him caving into my proposal.

I didn't trust the situation yet. They were two men and I was an - admittedly - not unattractive woman. I couldn't bare the thought of being caught off guard without any weapons; and I needed to keep my mind open to the possibility of this whole situation taking a turn for the worst.

"Come on, now. One foot in fron' of th' other" the man with the crossbow mocked me, noticing I wasn't walking. I made a face at him and followed behind the leader man. We stayed on the concrete road, which soon transitioned into a dirt road. The clumped dirt rocks crushed under my boots and the friction in my shoulder made it feel like sticks about to set ablaze.

"So, you got a name?" The leader man asked, without taking a look at me.

"Yeah" I said quitely "Arizona. Just Arizona"


	2. Chapter 2 : The Man With The Crossbow

_**Chapter Two: The Man With The Crossbow**_

"I want to get my supplies" I said, alerting the leader man and the man with the crossbow to turn around. The man with the crossbow eyed me suspiciously while the leader man had a look on his face, suggesting he would negotiate.

"You got weapons?" the leader man asked "Ammunition?"

"My rifle and my bike. That's all I'm asking for"

The two men raised an eyebrow to each other, clearly still on the fence about whether to trust me or not. You'd think I'd be offended but in all honesty, in a world that had gone to shit even before the apocalypse, I was surprised they hadn't already put a bullet in my head.

"I have to get these meds back to the camp" The leader man said, slightly raising a plastic bag full of medication and food.

"I'll take 'er out on th' bike" the man with the crossbow said, holding the crossbow closer to his core. The leader man nodded and gave me one more warnful look before making his way down the road.

"C'mon, now" the man with the crossbow ordered, gesturing me to walk in front of him. I felt him eyeing me up and down, checking for any sneaky weapons other than my clear as day knife and katanas. He showed me the way to his bike down a musty dirt road. In the way of his bike were two eaters, one scraping half it's body through the dirt and the other approaching us at top-speed - for an eater. I slid my katana out of it's case with my free hand and made a clean cut through half of it's head, while the man with the crossbow stomped on the vulnerable head of the half-eaten eater.

"What a beast" I said, circling the bike while sliding my katana back into it's case. I made a face at the man with the crossbow, telling him I was impressed with his find. His response was a hollow grunt before he pulled his leg over the bike, raising his hands up to the high handles. I awkwardly sat behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling every muscle I touched tense like there was no tomorrow.

"Hold on" he said quietly before revving the beast up. It shot off like a bullet but was loud as all Hell. Eaters were appearing from their camoflauge in the woods at the sound of the engine, yet we passed them with no questions asked. I gestured the directions to my hideout, which I could tell he wasn't comfortable taking. I guess if I was him, I would be expecting an ambush too.

The gloomy sky warned us to find cover soon and the amount of eaters were becoming lesser and lesser as we continued down the dirt road. Patches of rain provided relief from our intense body-heat and soon enough the pouring rain washed off all the grit and grime that reminded me of the sick world I had to live in.

After some time, we reached my hideout - it didn't look like much which substantiated my claim of being on my own. It was a small white chapel, the kind you'd see in the Kill Bill movies or in the middle of nowhere; one that a binge drinker and a gambler would get married in just so one of them could have a marriage visa. It wasn't much at all. But. in a world that is filled with flesh-eating somethings, it was everything.

We made our way to the porch of the chapel, the man with the crossbow following far behind me. I knelt to the bottom of the door and opened a smaller camoflauged door, gesturing the man with the crossbow to go in first.

"Ladies first" I laughed.

"Funny" he said, giving me another sly smile. I crawled in before him - carefully protecting my dislocated shoulder - and dusted my knees off. The chapel was just as bad on the inside than the outside. The stained glass windows were still standing surprisingly, and were tinted enough to not reveal me on the inside to anyone looking through them.

The aisle was haunting. It had been ever since I stepped foot into that chapel. I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the thought that people walked down that aisle either hand in hand or carrying a casket. But, it send shivers down my spine every time I looked at it.

I walked down the aisle - the dirty red carpet creasing under my boots - and circled around to behind the preachers stand. There lay my rifle and a few packs of painkillers, vulnerable but hidden. I dry swallowed three and stuffed the rest in my pants pocket. I held my rifle in my arms and smiled at the man with the crossbow.

"Thing o' beauty" I laughed, earning a grin from him "Alright, Captain Serious. We're going" I joked, walking back down the aisle. He flicked his hair away from his eyes and held the small door open for me.

"What a gentlemen" I laughed, still trying to earn the tiniest hint of laughter from him.

As he closed the small door behind him, I noticed his crossbow was slung over his shoulder rather than held at his stomach, suggesting I had earned enough trust for him not to be pointing his crossbow at me wherever I went.

"I don't even know your name yet" I said, resting back on the dusty support beam. A strong wind blew past, flying his hair and flannel shirt in one direction as he looked into the distance.

"Daryl. Just Daryl" he repeated my words from before.

"Funny" I imitated him in a harsh redneck accent, before pacing away from him.

I walked to the side of the porch, the floorboards creaking loud, and jumped over the wooden railing. As my feet hit the dusty ground, a familiar groaning sound caught my ear from behind. I pulled my widows knife out and stabbed the eater in the temple. Hearing the moans continue, I did it again harder. I walked before I could see the eater fall to the ground and discovered my bike, resting against the chapel window. It was a gorgeous Suzuki GSXR-1000 sports bike. Not so quiet but hella fast. Unlike Daryl's bike, it was hardly a bikers bike and more of an athletes bike. It was my most prized possession next to my katanas and whoever would want to take it would have to taste them first.

I hopped onto it and realized the painkillers had already done their job, but I knew the dislocation in my shoulder would become apparent again if we didn't get a move on. I revved the beast up, indulging myself in the sound of the four stroke engine begging for it's release. I took it slowly down to the road just in front of the chapel, the incredible sound of the dirt rocks crushing under it's tires and the rubber softening out on the concrete road. The man with the crossbow was already sitting pretty on his bike and ready to take off.

"Meet the beast" I laughed, earning another of his famous 'smiles'.

"C'mon. Best be getting back" he said, beginning to take off down the road. I followed close behind him, feeling the amazing combination of rain and wind in my hair. I could tell Daryl enjoyed it, too. Although, he put up a facade of steely toughness, it was things like this - riding on the open road - that he never took for granted.

He gestured me to continue down the dirt road, suggesting where his camp was located wouldn't be Beverley Hills. I watched as his well-defined arms pointed down the road and they left in a blur as he revved his bike faster. The sun was still not appearing behind the grey clouds and the rain rained down heavier as the minutes passed.

Eventually, I managed to focus my eyes on a guard tower in the distance, almost completely blurred by the foggy rain. I knew I could get in front of Daryls bike if I wanted to and shoot off fast to the tower. But, I knew I needed to earn his trust one thing I don't do at a time.

After a clearing, the prison came into full view. My first impression - it looked stable and trustworthy. The only thing that got to me initially were the pussy fences. Sure, they were holding dozens of eaters as it was. But, it was completely plausible to suggest a herd would tear down those fences with their full force. In which case, they were as useless as a soggy tampon.

A short-haired women and a teen boy opened the main gate, which was clearly not initially a part of the prison. On both sides of the main gate were structures of sharp sticks, pointing in every direction. I didn't realize their use before I witnessed an eater making it's way to the fence before impaling itself harshly.

As Daryl and I walked our bikes into the prison, a pretty brunette girl charged passed us and took out the few eaters who managed to make their way passed the main gate - impaling two in the throat and shanking one in the temple.

I pulled my leg over my bike, planting it on the dusty prison ground, analyzing the structure of the buildings and towers. It was safe for now. But, I think what Daryl and everyone else located there knew was that they couldn't be there forever. I guess it was easier to ignore the thought of leaving. But, it's just like their families and friends. Someday, somehow and somewhere in some type of inescapable situation, they will turn into what we kill everyday - what we stab in the temple without a hint of sympathy. But again, I guess it was easier to shut the thought out.

_Author : Reviews would be great! It'd really keep me dedicated to this fan fiction and maybe inspire some of the things that happen in the story. Thanks for reading so far!_


	3. Chapter 3 : Unarmed

_**Chapter Three : Unarmed**_

A one-legged man was putting the gracious effort to limp down from the prison to the front gates. He had a contagious smile hid unwell behind his grey beard and sympathetic eyes - I could tell he hadn't been on the outside as much as Daryl and Rick. Without knowing him personally, you could see it in his stride and his smile.

"Hello, my dear" he said in a comforting voice.

"Hello, Mister-"

"Please. Call me Hershel. Rick told me you have a shoulder that's bothering you. Do you mind if we walk inside and I take a look?"

"Not at all. That's mighty generous of you, Hershel" I said, earning a proud smile from him. I hadn't noticed my shoulder until he mentioned it, which was now aching and sore from being held at handle bars for too long.

I followed behind Hershel - analyzing the stump replacing his foot - and he softly grunted with almost every step he took. I felt sorry for the man. It must have been bad enough being an elderly in the apocalypse, then the world had to go and steal his foot. I wanted to ask him how he lost it but decided not to press him on it, just in case it lead to a dark alleyway.

He showed me into the prison, nonchalantly ignoring the many glares I was getting. It was almost unfamiliar to me to be surrounded by so many people again. Hell, how long had it been since the outbreak? I hadn't kept up with time - as if it mattered anyways. Nowadays, I just saw my days as morning, noon and night, light and dark, less eaters and more eaters. It was a sad way to live, but it was better than being a walking corpse.

As we passed the cells, I noticed that people were making each one their own - decorating the walls and what not. 'They're getting too comfortable' I thought initially. What happens when the prison crashes and burns? What then?

"Would you mind sitting down?" My thoughts were broken from Hershel's order. His hand was extended out to a dusty prison cell. I made my way in, scanning the cell from wall to wall before sitting myself down on the bed. He pulled a stool opposite me and sat himself down, grabbing my wrist and moving it this way and that.

"It's a miracle at all that you rode that motorcycle on this arm" he chuckled.

"I took some painkillers before I got on the bike so I can't take all the credit" I said, whincing as he lifted my shoulder further up than comfort desired.

I was startled as the short-haired woman from the main gate came jogging into the room.

"Hershel, Rick is asking for a council meeting" she said, panting.

"I'll be there in a minute. I just need to help this young lady"

"Arizona" I introduced myself.

"If you head down to Cell Block C now you can make it. I'll help Arizona and take the jog down" she suggested.

"I can't ask you to do that, Carol"

"Oh, I need the exercise anyways" she laughed. Hershel nodded in thanks and limped his way out the room, his grunts fading out as he distanced further away.

The woman he called Carol replaced him at the stool and dealt with my arm more harshly than Hershel, twisting it and tugging it in every direction.

"Arizona, is it?" I nodded "Could you turn to the side for me, please?"

I did as she said and turned my body to the side and left my shoulder fully exposed to her.

"Now, I'm not going to lie. This is going to hurt" at least she was honest.

She pushed at my elbow, creating an unbearable sensation stretching from my wrist to my neck. I whinced as the bones that before felt like sandpaper, now felt like velcro being torn apart. Carol grunted in frustration as the bones ceased to reconnect after a few efforts of relocating them like a puzzle. With a final push, the bones reconnected painfully hard and slammed into each other. I looked at the ground and held the painful cries inside of me.

"You won't be able to use that for a week. But, hey. At least it ain't gone" she chuckled as I reached for the painkillers in my pocket.

"So, Rick told me him and Daryl found you in a cabin when I was stitching up his leg" she said

"Yeah, that's right" I said blandly, still overwhelmed by the pain in my shoulder.

"Charming, aren't they?" she joked.

"Yeah, that was my first impression" I joked back. She stood from her chair, telling me the poor effort she put into small-talk was over.

"Well, I have to get down to that council meeting. Take it easy on the arm" she pointed at me, almost scolding me.

"Will do" I said saluting her with one hand and dry swallowing two painkillers with the other. I watched as she fast-walked out the prison cell before bumping into a familiar body.

"Sorry, Daryl" she said before jogging passed him. He peered into the cell, giving me a small curl nod.

"Rick wants ya' down at the council meetin'" he said "C'mon" he gestured for me to come with his head. I stood from the bed and pulled my cropped shirt down to just above my belly button as it couldn't go any further. Daryl's eyes ran up and down my body, stopping at the sight of my hand gripping onto my widows knife. I didn't let go of my grasp, not caring so much if he thought I was planning to attack someone. It was just a habit that had grown on me. Admittedly, I wasn't looking to abandon it anytime soon.

"D'ya have any idea why Rick wants me there?" I asked, letting him lead me to wherever the meeting was being held.

"Nah" he said blandly, clearly knowing something I didn't know. I didn't press him on it, hoping in the back of my mind that it wasn't a big deal.

No words were spoken for the rest of the walk, just the sound of our boots on the concrete floor and the hustle and bustle from the cells. We passed a wall with 'Cell Block C' printed on it and walked further down, reaching a room with five people already waiting for our arrival - who were evidently discussing the issue before Daryl and I were present.

Rick eyed me suspiciously as I made my way with Daryl towards the group, which consisted of the familiar faces Carol, Rick and Hershel and two unfamiliar faces; a pretty black woman and a young Asian man.

"D'you mind if we take your weapons?" Rick asked, approaching me.

I intuitively held a tighter grasp on my knife in my pants pocket, but shrugged in response, pulling it out and handing it over to him on the handles end. I unstrapped my katanas from my back and held each one in my hand, glowering at them lamentably, before handing them over to him; clearly showcasing that I wasn't comfortable unarmed. My back felt naked and bare without the weight of my katanas keeping me levelled, and it felt unnatural not having one hand on my knife. Rick nodded in thanks and placed them a decent distance away from my reach.

"So, you're probably wonderin' why I asked you down here" he said to me, placing his arms at his hips "I'm not sure yet that it's safe to have you roaming free around our people"

I tried not to appear taken aback by his words. Although, part of me was slightly convinced I had earned a bit of trust from Rick and Daryl. I understood their position and their mindset on the situation. But, I would be lying if I said I was over the moon about it.

"I understand" was all I could get out.

"The council feels that we should keep your weapons until further notice" he strayed away from my eyes. I responded with a nod, unsure at how I would cope without my weapons.

Rick approached me fairly close, placing his hand on my shoulder comfortly,

"I know this is all coming at you really fast. But, you have to put yourself in our shoes, okay?" he said, attempting to rest my suspiciousness. I shrugged at the feel of his calloused hand and again, only nodded in response. He spun around to the council and waved off the meeting "That's all, people"

...

Weeks passed and I had contributed into keeping the prison safe as much as anyone else, my desperation for my weapons growing as the days passed.

At night, the slightest creak would awake me from my sleep and my hand would intuitively reach under my pillow. The empty feel of the cold mattress reminded me that my knife was no longer on me, but in the 'safe' hands of Rick. Typically, I wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night, and wouldn't try - knowing it would get me nowhere.

I hadn't seen much of Daryl, and when I did he constantly shrugged off the idea whenever I offered to assist him on his runs. It's more than fair to say he assumed I was just trying to find an excuse to get my weapons back, and I'd be lying if I said he was completely wrong. When I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him here and there around the prison grounds, all I got was either one of his curl nods or if I was really lucky, a weak smile.

I spent most of my time at the fence, silencing the voice inside me telling me that they would soon fall. I desperately didn't want to lose my edge being kept safe for so long, but I knew being behind the fence wasn't equal to killing eaters on the other side of it, although it was easier. Problem was, they never seemed to end. They were like a messy sorted army; approaching row after row, corpse after corpse until my weapon would finally be too blunt to go through anymore temples.

On the flip side, I noticed that Rick was finally beginning to trust me after a long few weeks. Those ocean eyes he would seem to keep on me 24/7 appeared to seem more accepting the more I did for the people and the prison. The only thing I found myself straying away from were the kids. Carol was wrongly convinced that they loved me, yet was too naive to notice my uncomfortableness around them. I hated myself for being generous enough to assist Carol with one of her classes, not realizing it could lead to me being branded a 'kid lover'. No one understood except Daryl. I could see it in the way he looked at the kids - I assumed he had a bad experience with one, or maybe had some harsh memories from his childhood. But, I didn't press him on it.

The only 'kids' I really got along with were Beth and Carl, but they were adjusted to the circumstances the world had forced them into - especially Carl. He and I would stay up late at night chatting away about a variety of things, most of our conversations leading back to the question 'could we stay here forever?'. He was becoming like a little brother to me, and I could see Rick was happy to see he had someone to fall back on.

A familiar sound of a revving engine caught my ear. I lowered my sharpened pipe from the fence and stepped away from the eaters attempting to claw their way through the fence. Daryl was returning from his run and as usual, eaters were close on his tail, following the sound of his motorcycle. I settled the pipe on the opposite fence and made my way to the front gates. Daryl tossed a bag of meds and food to Rick, noticeably gripping onto his sides.

"You okay?" I asked him, putting my hand on his back.

"I'm fine. Just a bit of an accident on the bike on the way back" he said, shrugging my hand off.

"You fell off?" I asked, shocked that he was so calm about it. Knowing the pain of collapsing off of a full-speeding bike, he wasn't convincing me. However, I noticed he didn't have any tears in his skin and he was still walking perfectly - despite the pain in his side - telling me it was a minor accident.

"It wasn't nothin'. Don't worry 'bout it" he said, lowering his hand and trying to walk steady.

"Mind if I take a look?" Hershel said, motioning Daryl to follow him. Daryl grunted in surrender and followed Hershel up to the prison, noticeably yet persistently attempting to ignore the pain in his side.

"Stubborn, isn't he?" I laughed to Carol, who was walking Daryl's bike off the road.

"You don't know the half of it" she chuckled, resting it on the fence "He's just so pent up all the time" she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"He mustn't have always been like this" my comment became a question.

"I wish I could say so. He used to let off steam to his brother. But, now he doesn't really let anyone in"

"Brother? He never told me about a brother" I tried not to seem taken aback by the new information.

"Yeah, Merle. He ended up turning and unfortunately, Daryl was the only one there to put him down"

My heart broke at Daryl's misfortune. Even with the little amount of information Carol had given me, it spoke lengths about his personality. It was extremely obvious his attitude towards the group stemmed from his lack of sense of belonging, and it pained me for him to feel that way. He didn't realize the massive contribution he had made to the camp, and how many things - scratch that - how many lives would have been lost had he not been around.

Nevertheless, it was none of my business to be a sticky beak - and I just knew that Daryl wouldn't appreciate Carol spilling the beans to me.

But, I couldn't bare to watch him slowly and quietly self-destruct.

I just couldn't...

_Author: Sorry that it's been bland so far but I didn't want to begin this story with something too outrageous. Thanks for reading so far!_


	4. Chapter 4 : Easy, Rambo

_**Chapter Four : Easy, Rambo**_

"Hershel" I fortunately caught him on the way to Daryl's cell "How's he doing?"

"Luckily, nothing too serious. Just a couple of cracked ribs. I gave him some strong painkillers so he should be back to normal in no time" he assured. I nodded in thanks and let him be on his way. Subconsciously, I nervously rolled the stem of the daisy between my palms, having second thoughts on visiting Daryl's cell. A part of me felt the urge to turn around, crush the flower under my foot and return to the fence. But, something overtook it. Maybe it was just the slightest hint of vulnerability that glowed off of Daryl during our last encounter. Maybe it was non-existent and this was my conscience feeding off of the information Carol had given me. Whatever it was, it kept my feet walking and my mind arguing against itself.

I peered into his cell, noticing he was asleep - or at least shutting his eyes. He was positioned in a comfortable manner on his bed and seemed relaxed, his arms behind his head and his legs rested, one of them pointing it's knee to the ceiling. And then it came to me: he was shirtless. I felt dirty for examining his muscular body from afar while he slept soundly. But, I couldn't help it. His arms were outstretched behind his head, causing veins to appear behind the surface of his skin, and my eyes snaked down, taking in every crevice and well-defined peck, muscle and ab - even still bandaged, making itself known through the bandages. I forced my eyes away, angry at myself for being such a pervert. 'Wait' I thought 'Does it count as perving if none of his private parts are showing?'. I shook the idea out of my head and rested back on the bars of the cell, creating an unintended clang against the metal.

"Crap" Daryl's voice startled me and I spun around to him, plastering a fake smile on my face and looking at everything but him. He hastily pulled a blanket to his chest, concealing the abs and pecks I had been covertly admiring just a minute ago - he was not to know this. The tiniest hint of red seemed to reflect off of his cheeks, making me want to laugh.

"How long have ya' been standin' there?" he said rudely, sighing at the ceiling. I made my way into the cell, ignoring his question.

"Heard about your ribs. That blows" 'That blows?' I thought 'Good freakin' one, Zona. Real smooth' He responded with a nod and directed his eyes to my hand.

"What's with the flower?" the question took me by surprise, reminding me about the daisy in my hand. I held it to my face, imaginably appearing as if I didn't know why I had it.

"Well, it's um-" I paused, extending it out to him "It's for you"

He raised his eyebrow at me, almost glowering at the flower, then at me and back at the flower.

"There ain't much variety in a prison garden you picky son of a bitch" I laughed, issuing him to take it. He slowly reached his hand out, grabbing it from the stem and glaring at it.

"What am I suppose' to do with this?" he asked, holding it in his fingers like it was nothing.

"It's just a gesture. Y'know, 'get better soon' and all that" I said haltedly, seeming as if I didn't understand my own gesture.

"It's just ribs. No big deal" he said, putting the flower on the floor beside him and staring back at the ceiling.

"Okay, then. Let me put it like this" I reached for a stool and pulled it towards me, ignoring Daryl's annoyed sigh "Think of it as get well soon, thank you and an apology"

He raised his eyebrow at my last remark "Why an apology?"

"For not saying thank you sooner" I shrugged, half-smiling at him.

"Well uh-" he thought of what to say "Welcome"

An awkward silence filled the air, and the sound of me tapping my foot against the concrete floor only fuelled it.

"Daryl-"

"Daryl! Zona!" Rick's voice interrupted mine and echoed through the cell block "We need you at the front gates!"

With a final sigh, Daryl pulled himself out of his bed, letting his bedsheets fall off of his body. I stood from my stool and watched as his muscles tensed as he arose from his bed. His well-defined arm was held out, and his muscles clenched together, making them appear larger in size. Words left his mouth but ran straight passed me.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, finally focussing on something other than his body.

"For Christ's sake" he grumbled, pushing passed me and grabbing his flannel shirt from behind me. It was only then that I realized he had asked me to hand it to him, but I was too indulged in fanticizing - scratch that - focussing on his body that it completely slipped my mind.

"Gonna' stop staring anytime soon?" he questioned, beginning to button up his sleeveless flannel shirt.

"I am- uh" my tongue tied itself up "I was just-"

I felt like a teenage girl, stumbling over my own words - just because of Daryl. It was Daryl! I hadn't seen him in this light before, and it was more than just a little superficial to finally see him this way after his shirt came off. But admittedly, it was nothing more than physical attraction.

With a final grunt, he slung his crossbow over his shoulder and made his way passed me, leaving me to my own humiliation and embarrassment. Fan-flippin'-tabulous. A few minutes ago, I had been making my way to Daryl's cell with no other intentions other than giving him a flower - which not until I actually gave it to him, I realized was rather cheesy - and tell him to get well soon. Instead, I perved on him, got myself tongue-tied, had him realize I was perving on him and worse off, he didn't seem to give a toss. The hint of vulnerability that I assumed Daryl had was probably just my imagination. Daryl Dixon being vulnerable. Yeah, bloody right...

Before crushing the daisy under my boot, I remembered that Rick asked me to the main gates. I proceeded to make my way down, trying to erase the memory of that event ever happening.

"Zona!" I turned to Carl's voice, my mood automatically chippered at the sight of him.

"What's up, mate?" I asked him.

"Can you convince my dad to let me go on the run with you and Daryl?" he pleaded. I raised my eyebrow at the information that came with his question.

"Your dad wants me to go on the run?" I asked "With Daryl?"

"Yeah, you didn't know? Point is, I want to help with bringing supplies back. I'm more use out there than in here"

"Look" I rubbed my forehead with my fingers, trying to figure out what to say to him, not particularly fancying getting inbetween him and Rick "You realize your dad's just looking out for you, and before you say it's bullshit you need to think about it from our point of view. You're the youngest bloke with a correct mind-set. All these kids-" I paused "They don't know the world. But, you do. If we ever ran the risk of you-" I stopped myself, knowing he understood where I was going "We can't lose you, Carl. You're the future of this group, you understand?"

After a good few seconds, he responded with an understanding nod, giving me those intense eyes he seemed to get whenever someone mentioned him being a leader. The kid would do well, I just knew it.

With a final clap on his back, I continued my way to the front gates.

"Zona!" another voice stopped me in my tracks as I stepped out into the sunlight, although this was a familiar soft and feminine voice.

"What's up, Maggie?" I spun around to her, smiling.

"You need to get your gear before the run, don't you?" she beamed, knowing how much I'd been pleading to have my weapons back, and begging to take a ride on my bike again. Maggie was an alright gal'. Even before the apocalypse, I was never into all that 'girly' stuff she seemed into. Seeing as she was the person who was taking eaters out on the fence with me the most, I was roped into gossiping on a daily basis.

After gathering my katanas, my widows knife and my bike from the near back of the prison, I rode it to the main gates. Once I reached them, I pulled my leg over the bike - planting my feet on the ground - and walked to Rick, smiling at him in thanks. I knew I wouldn't have been able to go on the run and get my possessions back if it wasn't for his 'okay'.

"Daryl" Daryl's head shot up from behind me at Rick's voice "Zona will be comin' with you into town"

"Right" he said blandly, presumably feeling the awkward tension between him and me as much as I did.

"I gave the list of supplies we need to Daryl. You get in. You get out. Understand?" Rick lectured me. I nodded to him understandably before climbing back onto my bike. Carol and Maggie opened the front gates before opening the main gates. They creaked loudly - pleading for an oil - and I shot off in a blur, wanting to escape that awkward atmosphere the moment I could.

Our bikes made themselves known through the road, the sound of their engines echoing through the woods and ringing the dinner bell for any eaters within a 5-mile radius. The weather was a lot different since the last time I was riding on the road with Daryl; more tamed and sunny, making up for the long hours I would spend at the fence when the weather was nothing short of shit. It seemed the world was at least doing one thing in my favour.

We slowed down as an unfamiliar small town came into view, a typical establishment merely containing a pub, a church, a servo and a grocery store. No vehicles were in sight - other than the evidently abandoned ones - and Daryl and I parked our bikes in front of the grocery store. Pulling my leg over my bike and setting both my feet on the ground, I slung my sidebag over my head and avoided Daryl's eyes, looking up and down the grocery store aimlessly.

"C'mon" he slung his crossbow over his shoulder "Sooner we get this done, the better"

I breathed out a massive breath I hadn't realize I was holding in as he made his way passed me, the list of things we needed in his hand. I followed him into the already opened grocery store, instinctively grasping the handle of one of my long-missed katana.

"Here. You get the bottom half" he said, handing me the list and disappearing into one of the aisles.

6. Baby formula

7. Diapers

8. Baby wipes

9. Baby food

10. Dummies

I sighed at the list of things I needed to get - and internally punched Daryl in the nuts for assigning me that job, assuming it was because of my gender. On the flip side, at least I knew which aisle to head to.

I collected all the things on the list and put them in my sidebag - making a face at the baby on the diapers packaging before making myself depressed at the thought of where he/she is right now.

"Ya' got everythin'?" Daryl surprised me from behind, intuitively making me pull my knife out of my pocket. He caught my wrist before it could meet his forehead and made a face at me, looking at me like I was some hormonal psycho "Easy, Rambo"

I pulled my wrist from his grasp and put my knife back into my pocket, straying away from his eyes.

"C'mon, now. One foot in fron' of the other" he mocked me, making me fast-walk passed him like a three-year-old. I strayed to the front of the grocery store in embarrassment, pulling my bag closer to my hip. To my complete surprise, one hand caught my mouth and another pulled me back behind a wall before I could walk out the door. My screams of anger muffled behind Daryl's hand - he put his free hand to his mouth, motioning me to stop talking and gestured to the front door beside me. I slowly peered my eyes to the outside of the grocery store - which in the more or less 15 minutes we had spent gathering supplies - was now overrun with eaters.

"Sorry" I mouthed to him, realizing I wasn't looking before walking out the door due to my cloud of infuriation.

He pointed to an exit door down the aisle in front of us, gesturing me to go first. I scurried down the aisle until halfway, knowing I was out of the eaters sight. He followed behind me - his backpack rattling from all the contents in it - and continued passed me, stopping at the door. He held his crossbow to his chest and I slid both of my katanas from their cases, holding one in each of my hands.

"Ya' ready?" He asked quitely. Before I had a chance to respond, he kicked the door open, revealing an abundance of eaters walking aimlessly about before noticing their dinner coming straight for them. I kept to the side of the building, keeping all the eaters in front of me and slicing one after another. Daryl shot his crossbow at a few, yet after realizing the effort of running into the eaters to retrieve his arrows, began using his knife which was more effective.

"Up there!" I turned to the direction of Daryl's voice and followed his eyes to a ladder, which lead up to the rooftop of the grocery store. I quickly ran for the metal tradies ladder and climbed up it, Daryl fighting off the eaters as I climbed.

"C'mon!" I yelled, noticing he hadn't begun climbing up the ladder. He took out the few eaters which would have pulled his feet from the ladder before making his way up. He folded the ladder together and used all the strengh he had left to pull it onto the rooftop. I ran a lap of my surroundings, checking if there were any other ways the eaters could get to the rooftop. To my relief, there were none. A puddle of blood in the far corner of the rooftop caught my eye, and beside it, a pistol. That explained the ladder. Some poor bastard must have lost hope and shot himself. I picked up the pistol in my hand and checked the rounds : five. I turned it on safety and stuffed it in my pocket - finders keepers.

...

"You realize we're going to be stuck up here for the whole night?" I asked him, not particularly expecting an answer. He didn't respond, telling me he didn't want to think about it - same as me.

It was already night and the amount of eaters hadn't lessened enough for us to get to our bikes, forcing us to_ try_ and relax on the roof.

"How did so many eaters get here so fast?" I asked him, not sure if he would have the answers.

"They're must've been plenty in the woods or somethin'. Bikes musta' caught their ear. We'll shove passed em' in the mornin'" he grumbled, placing his elbows on his knees.

"Ya' make it sound easy" I said, laying my head back and crossing my legs "So, what do you usually do to pass the time?"

"I usually don't have time to pass" he responsed, with a harshness in his voice. It made sense, though. Daryl was always knee-deep in shit whether he liked it or not, imaginably not giving him enough time to funny about.

"Well, now you do" I responded "So, whaddyou' want to do?" he raised his eyebrow at me, finally looking me in the eye.

"Depends on what you're thinkin'" I could hear a tinge of something in his voice, and it intimidated me. My mouth formed into an 'o' shape as I realized what he was implying.

"Just 'cause of what happened in your cell, you assume I'd do the dirty with you?" I laughed loudly, not caring about the eaters already attempting to claw their way to us "You're a piece of work, Dixon"

"Wouldn't peg ya' for fridget" he mocked, a small smile evident in his voice.

"I'm not fridget" I protested "And don't try to suss your way into-" I stopped myself as I realized my bad choice of words, earning a chuckle from Daryl.

"Whatever you say, Claire Standish" he mocked me again, resting his back on the wall. Although my love for Molly Ringwald was close to Carl's love for chocolate, I detested against his claim of me being fridget.

"I just meant talkin'" I clarified. He raised his eyebrow "When I said 'to pass the time' I just meant talkin'"

"Talkin'" he repeated me, with a slight tease in his voice. He rested his elbows back on his knees, giving me a questionable look "What is there to talk about?"

"I don't know" I shrugged "What did you do before all of this?" I asked "Before the world went to shit?"

He didn't respond, simply glowering at the ground with the usual 'I don't give a toss' look on his face "Okay, how 'bout I start us off?" I cleared my throat, ignoring his annoyed sigh "I was a journalist and I lived in Australia. My fiance and I flew here for a holiday, but instead were greeted by walking corpses at the terminal"

" 'xplains the bogan accent" he commented. I cocked my head to the side and raised my eyebrow. I guess you never really know you have an accent until someone is gracious enough to point it out - even if it is pointed out as rudely as that.

"Okay" I extended the word, losing my train of thought at his comment "So, your turn. What did you do before the world went to shit?"

He chuckled at my words "I was born into a world that was gone to shit. This whole the-dead-rising-up thing just gave me one more thing to worry about" he said, not looking me in the eye. His words cut through me because they were all too true.

"Fair enough" I said, leaving an awkward silence to fade in for a few moments, unsure at what my next move was "Isn't there anything you miss?"

"Is that a trick question?" he spat, still staring at the ground in front of him "If anything, everything became easier to cope with once the dead started walkin'"

"Because of the group? Michonne, Rick, Carol?" I said, noticing him flash me a greasy look at the last name "Something wrong with Carol?" I pried.

"Been through alot is all" he mumbled, staring more intensely at the ground.

"She obviously cares about you" I tried to cheer him up, earning no response from him "Everyone does"

"Long as the supplies keeps comin'"

"Is that what you really think?" I questioned him, trying to get him to look me in the eye. He strayed his eyes to the wall next to him and looked back at the ground, telling me he felt as if he shouldn't have made that comment.

"Look, man" I sat myself upright, stretching my legs out in front of me "I know I don't know you too well. But, I've seen alotta' camps crumble, and the only reason this one seems to still be standin' is 'cause of you"

He scoffed as if he didn't believe me, but I didn't put the effort into trying to convince him.

"Don't get too hard on yourse-"

"Who d'ya think I am?" he interrupted me quitely "Some misunderstood, self-degrading, morally-conflicted redneck? Well, I can tell you somethin', Rambo. You don't know shit" he harshly mumbled at the ground before finally looking me in the eye, letting me know he was serious. I kept my eyes dead-locked on his, letting him know I wasn't intimidated. He finally left my eyes and scoffed "Stupid bitch"

That threw me off a bit. But, I left the 'Let's Get Daryl to Pour His Heart Out' game for the night, clearly labelled the loser this time round.

"I can tell you one thing: you're not the dumb redneck you think everyone makes you out to be" I threw my last card on the table, assuming our conversation had reached it's end point.

"Since when did you become my damn counsellor?" he spat, hinting me to rack off.

"Sorry" I mumbled under my breath, a bit embarrassed that I didn't take the hint before the conversation went to shit. I didn't exactly know what I was expecting from that conversation. For Daryl to confide in me? For him to suddenly experience a moral epiphany? 'Things like that only happen in movies, Zona' I thought 'Get over yourself'

A freezing breeze made itself known, raising goosebumps on my arms and the exposed part of my stomach. I crossed my arms over each other, attempting to use any resource I had to keep warm. Eventually, I let myself lay down on the cold concrete of the rooftop, finding discomfort in every position I subjected myself to. The darkness began to envelope me as time passed, and soon enough I found myself enclosed in pure blackness.

...

I erupted from my sleep, immediately sitting myself up-straight with my knife somehow already in my hand. A noise had clearly thrown me out of my sleep, and although my body instinctively reacted to it, I hadn't a clue where it came from. My eyes travelled over to Daryl, who was still in the same position he was in before I went to sleep; back rested against the wall with his crossbow at his side.

"Easy, Rambo" he mocked me, pulling a kink at the back of his neck with his hand. I didn't understand the nickname 'Rambo'. A) Rambo was a man - and a bulky one at that, B) he owned a machete, not a knife and C) Daryl was the one with the bloody crossbow, not me. My inner rant didn't reach my mouth, which was too tired to argue against the nickname.

"What was that sound?" I asked him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Came from below. Walker musta' knocked somethin' over"

I crawled to the edge of the rooftop and looked below, realizing it was still too dark to see anything much. The amount of eaters hadn't changed dramatically, and still wasn't enough to simply 'shove passed'. I felt something light clinging onto my lower leg - and as I looked at what it was, I gave a faint smile to Daryl. It was his poncho, which I hadn't noticed due to my dramatic awakening. I assumed he had rested it on me as a blanket while I was asleep.

I settled myself back to where I was resting before, still half-smiling at Daryl who was resting his elbows on his knees again, looking abit - at least what looked like - shy. Humble? Dorky? All of the above? Whatever it was, I hadn't seen it on him and I could tell he was uncomfortable showcasing it.

"Cheers" I said quitely, motioning at the poncho.

"Welcome" he mumbled, resting himself back. I hadn't seen this side to Daryl. Without him doing much, it changed him dramatically

He began speaking again "Least it'll keep you from bitching for the resta' the night"

And there he was again.

_Author: I hope you enjoyed reading that chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Sorry if it dragged on too long and also, my sister pointed out the Australian slang I subconsciously weaved into the story. I figured since Arizona is Australian I might as well leave it as it is :)_

_ Tradie = tradesmen Servo = service station Bloke = Man_


	5. Chapter 5 : Fine and Dandy

_**Chapter Five : Fine and Dandy**_

"Rambo" a cold breeze swept across my body as the warm poncho was pulled away from my skin. I cringed at the feel of the wind running past my exposed arms and neck and I was furiously rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

" It's 'bout time" Daryl's voice echoed in my still half-asleep ears "It's like wakin' up a log, for Christ's sake" he mocked me, stuffing the poncho into his backpack and slinging it across his shoulder.

I brought myself to sit up, taking a moment to realize that I wasn't in my comfortable prison bed. 'My comfortable prison bed' I thought 'Bloody hell'

"Go to university, mum said. Study your ass off, mum said" my thoughts were slipping off my tongue, and they earned a confused look from Daryl "Sorry. Mornings and me don't mix" I joked, stretching my arms above my head and peering over the edge of the roof. To my surprise, there weren't many eaters strutting about.

"Hey, check out th-" I was interrupted by Daryl, rudely throwing my sidebag at me and making a face at me telling me that he really didn't give a toss. I let it fall to my feet - squinting my eyes at him - and strapped my katanas to my back before slinging the bag over one of my shoulders "Okay, Captain Serious" I mumbled as he walked the ladder to the edge of the roof. He quietly descended it onto the ground, earning the attention of only three eaters. He quickly disposed of them from the rooftop, shooting arrows into their temples before making his way down. I climbed after him whilst he pulled the arrows from the eaters heads, and put them back into a keep safe compartment in his crossbow.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to be in eater territory again" I joked, earning a half-smile from him. I pulled one of my katanas from it's sheath - only feeling the need for one - and made clean cuts through four eaters surrounding our bikes, cursing under my breath as their blood splattered onto my bike.

I climbed on and smiled at Daryl as the unmistakable sound of my bike revving up reached my ears. Like a bullet, I sped down the road from which we came. The early morning cold winds were quickly forgotten - the speed of the bike sent the adrenalin running through my veins that no amount of alcohol or drugs could replace. After a good few minutes, I slowed down so I was beside Daryl and gave him a quick smile - which he surprisingly returned, although weakly - and I sped off again in a blur.

The prison that we ironically called 'sanctuary' came into view after the familiar clearing through the woods and unsurprisingly, not many people were waiting for us behind the fences. I knew by now that if more than a night had passed when someone was on their run, the people would already begin considering the plausibility that they wouldn't come back. But, Daryl came back. He always came back.

Maggie opened the main gate before herself and Carl opened the front gates. Passing Daryl and I, Glenn charged into the ranks, taking out the eaters that had made it passed the main gate.

I climbed off the bike, indulging myself in the feeling of being in semi-safe territory, and to my surprise, Maggie startled me with a tight hug. I realized through her harsh breathing that she was crying - that they really did think we wouldn't make it back. She eventually let go, appearing overwhelmed with happiness and could only manage to nod at me, finding sentences too difficult to structure. I didn't realize she thought that much of me, or that we were that close as friends. Then again, in a world that didn't reward us with many people, the people who made us even a little bit happy were a complete blessing.

Carl approached me with cautious steps, evidently not showcasing the same physical affection as Maggie. Instead, he stared at me with his big blue eyes and managed to stutter out "I-I knew you'd make it back"

Ignoring his 'no-touching' rule, I pulled him into a tight sisterly hug, to which he didn't fight and even began weakly hugging me back.

"Course I'd make it back" I said quietly just so he could hear "We need someone to watch over your rascally ass"

He laughed genuinely before pulling away from my hug, giving me a stare telling me that his day was made now that I was back, and he ran off to catch up with Beth and Judith.

I caught Daryl in the corner of my eye, walking his bike off the road. Maggie and Carl had completely walked passed him, which substantiated his claim that they cared about him - and I quote 'Long as the supplies keeps comin''. I crossed my arms across my chest and made my way over to him, ignoring the smoke blowing over to me from the cigarette in his mouth.

"Daryl" I stretched his name in a sing-along voice. He didn't look amused and kept his back leaned against the gate, taking a long drag and blowing smoke into the air "Thanks for savin' my ass yesterday"

He didn't respond again, but I kept pressing, not giving up on lightening the mood without a fight.

"Ya' too cool to talk to me, now?" I laughed, leaning against the fence beside him. No response "Come on, that's such a bloke mentality" I joked, pushing his shoulder with mine. No response "Shall I get your Tranzam and hair gel, Mister Too Cool for School?" No response.

"Okay. I give up" I waved my hands in surrender "Daryl wins. Rambo caves" I saw a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Happy, Dixon? My mood is ruined. Now you're going to have to make it up to me"

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled a packet of cigarettes out. I stared at them deeply, and with a 'fuck it' shrug, I snatched them from his hands. He held out a lighter and I snatched it more fiercely, lighting up a cigarette and feeling the toxic chemicals burn my throat.

"Couple of fags ain't a way to a girl's heart, Dixon" I laughed into the cigarette.

"If you say so, Rambo" he finally spoke, a smile in his voice.

...

"You like him!" Maggie giggled, showcasing the girliest, most man-attracting laugh I had ever heard "Don't deny it, Zona"

"Funny 'cause I don't" I weakly protested, leaning back on the wall.

"Yeah, you do. I can see the way you stare at his body" she stretched the last word "Admit it"

"I would if I did. But, I don't so I won't" I laughed at her.

"Can't say no to this" she giggled, stuffing the magazine in my face "How can you not like that v-line?" she pulled it back and stared at the half naked man sprawled across the page, drool almost spilling out of her mouth.

"I don't know who you are or what you've done with Maggie" I laughed "But, I'm pretty sure Maggie has a boyfriend"

She waved off my statement "No harm in looking but not touching"

"Given the fact that world has fallen into the shitter, it's not like you have a choice"

"Oooh" she said in a low voice "That's dark" she tried to put a straight face before we both burst out laughing.

She was snuggled on the other end of my bed, flicking away through some celebrity magazines I snagged for her on the run. I didn't have a clue why she loved them so much. I'm reasonably sure the DIY lip butter or the four-year late information about Brad and Angelina's new adopted kid didn't mean too much in the world we had to live in.

"So" she stretched the word, grabbing the pile of magazines and setting them on the floor "Spent the night with Daryl?"

"No" I said immediately "No" I repeated "No. No. No. NO"

"What? I was just saying-"

"I know what you're going to say and I'm saying NO" I grabbed a pillow and pulled it over my head, laying on my stomach like a three-year-old.

"Aw, come on!" she laughed, climbing onto my back "Just tell me"

"Noo" I stretched the word, not letting her pull the pillow from my grasp "I got you the bloomin' magazines! Isn't that enough for your nosey ass?" I was practically pleading not to have this conversation.

"Ch-chm" Beyond the pillow, I could hear someone clearing their throat, but I didn't bother to check who it was.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice muffled by the mattress. Maggie laughed and I felt her looking at the person in the door way.

"Once you gals' are done paintin' your nails, dinner's ready" the familiar voice of Daryl eluded my ears "Alright under there, Rambo?"

I responded to him with the middle finger, earning a tiny snicker before his footsteps trailed off. I sighed under my pillow loudly, knowing how Maggie was looking at me.

"Speak of the devil-"

_"You're_ the devil!" I screamed into the mattress before pushing her off me and throwing the pillow into her face. Before she could say anything, I bolted out of the cell and down the cell block, hearing her calling me an indistinguishable curse word as I ran.

I was greeted by everyone when I reached the dinner table. The smell of vegetable soup lingered at the back of my throat and the family atmosphere made it all the more better. However, the tiny hint of awkwardness was non-existent at this dinner. The tiny hint of awkwardness that usually came with one person sitting away from everyone else and not giving a toss about manners and all that bollocks. I looked about the room to realize that Daryl wasn't there and my heart sunk. Why was it after the run he had with _me_ that he suddenly decided to miss dinner? Despite his anti-social personality, he never did.

I tried to not let it get to me. I tried to get on with dinner - giving out fake smiles and telling everyone it was all fine and dandy out there in the real world.

But it wasn't.

Not even close.

...

I returned to my cell with my second helping of soup, relieved that Maggie had disappeared - presumably at the guard tower having her way with Glenn. I wasn't ready to have that conversation about the run with her because - unlike a normal human being - Maggie heard 'no' as 'not for now'. That conversation was a one way road down to 'Ridicule, Perniciousness and Complete and Utter Humiliation City'.

I rested myself down on the bed, kicking my feet up and letting the bowl of the soup warm my stomach and lap. Holding my bowl with one hand, I reached my free one under my pillow and pulled out a fairly thick book titled 'Tomorrow, When the War Began' by John Marsden. Brilliant book, that one. Subconsciously, I hoped the series would quip me with new tactics to use outside the fence. A premise that was mostly an excuse to waste my time getting lost in the book.

A knocking noise startled me from my thoughts. I lifted my head up from the book to a tired-looking Daryl. He threw some sort of material at me that I couldn't make out as it flew through the air. I caught it with one of my hands and spread it out in front of me.

"A jacket?" I looked at him quizzically, expecting answers.

"Just so ya' don't have ta' go and steal my poncho again" he half-smiled at me and was about to be on his way.

"Oi" I called out to him, making him stand his ground at the doorway "Wait a second, will ya'?" I said. Without leaving my position on the bed, I reached under the mattress and pulled out the gun I had found on the rooftop "Here" I insisted, holding it out to him "Just so ya' don't have to go scurrying about for your arrows all the time" I imitated his redneck accent, earning a tight-lipped laugh.

"Don't worry 'bout it' he said firmly.

"Hey" I gave him a stern look "You want me to do what you did and throw this at ya'?" I joked "And believe me when I say I don't know how the hell to use the safety" I lied.

He gave me another hesitant look "Don't worr-"

"Mate, you need it more than I do. Take it" I ordered. Finally, he made his way into the cell and slowly grabbed it from my hand, managing to keep his distance from me.

"Thanks" he said blandly.

"Am_ I_ allowed to say thanks to you for savin' my ass yesterday?" I rhetorically asked.

He shrugged as a response and before he could answer, his eyes somehow traveled to the book lying on the bed.

"So, this is what ya' do all day" he chuckled, reaching over and grabbing the book.

"Oath" I laughed "I can't seem to put the bastard thing down" I said genuinely. Flicking through the pages, he was grinning at the strange scenarios he seemed to stumble upon.

"Good read?" he asked.

"I guess" I shrugged my shoulders, taking a spoonful of my soup "It's more that it paints the image of Australia and-" I cut myself off "Y'know, I'd kill to go back home" I heard the irony. He weakly nodded at me then at the book, seeming as if he genuinely understood "Guess luck just wasn't on my side the day we left the country" I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

I missed Australia.

I missed it more than anyone could ever bloody imagine. One day I was boarding a plane to America, not even bothering to say goodbye to my family and friends, given it was only a week holiday. Next day, my fiance is holding my hands to his head with a gun enclosed in them. On top of that, as well as having to adjust to a whole new country, I had to adjust to a whole new world. A world where people ate people, and the government was non-existent. Law, rules, justice; all the things we humans said we had complete control of, completely falling apart at the seams. Luck not being on my side was the biggest under-statement of the year.

"Arizona?" Daryl broke me from my thoughts, and the fact he said my name only emphasized his concern "Ya' alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay" I assured, giving him a slight pat on his shoulder.

"Well" he broke the silence "I'll be sure to give it a read when ya' done"

"Read it?" I paused "Wait, you read?"

His face looked slightly offended.

"No!" I withdrew my comment rather loudly "I meant, you read to pass the time? Not cleaning your crossbow or sharpening your knife on a cavemans rock?" I joked, earning the most genuine laugh I had heard from him.

"When I'm not spear fishiing, yeah. I read" he joked. I threw my head back in laughter, realizing he actually had a sense of humor.

"So you do have time to pass?" I gave him a stern look, and poked his shoulder with my finger "Pants on fire"

"Was just tryna' impress ya'" he joked. Or did he? I couldn't tell and I didn't question it to ruin the conversation which surprisingly, was going well.

"You know what?" I laughed, cocking my head to the side "You're not as hard as you seem"

He flinched his eyebrow up.

"You need to get your mind out of the gutter, Dixon" I pointed at him accusingly "I meant you've got a side to ya'" I clarified.

"Dumb redneck can still surprise ya' sometimes" he said, seeming slightly genuine. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds "You probably want ya' book back" he broke the silence, laying it down on the bed "Better go before I spoil it for ya'" he said, standing up.

"You've read it?" I asked.

"Forget to tell ya', did I?" he said teasingly before making his way out the cell.

"Daryl" I called out, just before he could leave my sight. He looked at me weakly with his grey-green eyes "Just tell me one thing, yeah? Is it a good ending?" I asked.

"No" he said weakly, staring into my eyes for a few seconds - which more or less felt like years. Finally dropping his gaze, he disappeared from my sight, leaving me to the book that I now knew wouldn't end with 'and they lived happily ever after'

_Author : I know this chapter was all over the joint but rest assured, more exciting things are sure to come for Arizona. Thanks so much for reading so far!_


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